


You wouldn't believe the people I've met...

by Herk



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Complete, Gen, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herk/pseuds/Herk
Summary: Methos has lived at least 5000 years. And yet sometimes he meets people that manage to surprise even him.See if you can name all the crossovers ;)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As always thanks to Dimar <3

“The strangest person I've ever met?”

 

The lean, dark haired man looked at the bartender. “You ask difficult questions, Joe.”

 

"Well humour me, Adam. Try for the top 5, if one is to difficult to pick.”

 

'Adam' took a sip of his beer, watching his friend thoughtfully. Joe sensed that the old man was in a strange mood today, he might even answer his question, if coaxed enough. He leaned over and whispered:

 

“Come on, Methos. I promise I won't tell anyone. Grant an old man his curious wish.”

 

Methos' eyes lit up with an amused twinkle, when he heard Joe call himself 'old man'. He emptied his glass and held it in an inviting way.

 

“Five persons, five stories, “ he agreed, “ four true, one invented,” he added with a smirk.

 

Joe opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. He would never get a better deal out of the old man than 80% truth.

 

He refilled the glass and gave Methos his beer, waiting for him to start.

 

“OK, number one...


	2. Chapter 2

_ “You know you guys are neither the first nor the only organization to call themselves Watchers. It's a catchy name after all. I first learned of this other one in Italy in the last decade of the 19th century. _

 

A small bar, somewhere in Rome, Italy...

 

Methos still wasn't sure if coming to Italy had been a good idea. It had been more than time for a new name, a new identity, a fresh start, but coming here lacked the clean cut he usually preferred. 

 

*Be honest with yourself old man, staying out of sight is taking its toll; you just wanted to see a friendly, familiar face again.* A sad smile crossed his features with his next thought. *And Claudio is one of maybe a handful of your students who's still alive and the most likely to be glad to see you again. That's the reason you even sent him a message.*

 

He absent-mindedly took a sip from his wine, still wondering if he should be here at all, when a  girl stepped up to his table.

 

“Signore Tarroci?”  

 

Methos looked up. The girl seemed to be about seventeen, yet her voice had already developed a dark, warm timbre. Together with her looks it would have been enough to seduce almost any man, even if she had worn rags.

 

“Yes?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Master Brescello sent me to give you his greetings and deliver his invitation to the honourable Signore Luigi Tarroci.”

 

The smile of her lips was as inviting as the way she held herself. 

 

Methos stood up and made a prompting gesture.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

After half an hour Methos and his guide arrived at a big villa in the most noble and expensive part of Rome. There was a small park surrounding a big white house and although he couldn't see it from here Methos would have bet a significant amount of money on the fact, that the interior of the house would be laid out with marble. He slightly shook his head. Claudius hadn't changed; being raised in the decadent last years of the Roman empire had left an impression neither his first death at the hand of Barbarian invaders nor Methos' training had managed to erase.

 

When he caught himself criticising Claudio's way of life he immediately stopped. It wasn't his place to judge his choices and hadn't been for a long while. He was just here to visit an old friend, not disapprove of him.

 

“It is a beautiful house, isn't it?” The girl asked with noticeable pride in her voice.

 

“Very luxurious,” he agreed in a neutral tone.

 

“Just as it fits the Immortal as the doge of Rome.”

 

* * *

 

The girl guided him through the – marble laid – halls of the villa into the atrium, where Claudio lay on a chaise lounge. The tall dark-haired man looked up from his grapes and smiled at his new guest, then he turned to the girl.

 

“Thank you, Lorella, you might leave now.”

 

Obediently the servant left the two of them alone. The moment she began to close the door, Claudio got up to greet his old mentor with an embrace.

 

“Methos! I haven't seen you in ages,” he started with a smile.

 

The older man freed himself from the close contact and held Claudio at arms length.

 

“THE Immortal?!”

 

He wasn't quite able to keep the anger out of his voice.

 

“What the hell have you been up to?”

 

He paced over to the chaise lounge and let himself fall into a comfortable position. He waited for Claudio to answer.

 

“Oh come on Methos, don't be a grouch,”  'The' Immortal started with a smile.

 

“Luigi – not everyone uses the one name over and over again, Claud.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I know, always the cautious one. But really, as long as it's just the two of us, Luigi, I don't think we need to be too paranoid,” Claudio said with a wink and sat down on an armchair. He poured some wine into two goblets and offered one to his old teacher.

 

Methos took the offered wine and drank. The dry red beverage was excellent and did its part to calm him down.

 

“OK, maybe I was too harsh,” he admitted, “but I sure as hell would like to know what's going here. A big villa, beautiful servant girls and first class wine... I may think it unwise but I can see the temptation, but ...” he let the sentence hang unfinished between them.

 

“Have you ever heard of an organisation named the Watchers?”

 

* * *

 

Claudio spent the next hour telling his old mentor about vampires, the Slayer, and the Watcher's council. He had stumbled upon them, when he had shown interest in a young beautiful girl, who turned out to be the Slayer.

 

“And you know me, Methos, I can neither keep my hand from beautiful girls nor from women with power, so there was no way I could stay away from her. 

 

Then her Watcher found out and you can't believe how nosy that bastards can be. There are always two ways to keep something secret either stay put and be as unobtrusive as you can, or make a hell lot of fuss about something, so that people won't see anything else. Since option number one was taken from me I had hardly a choice.

 

I made a point about me being THE Immortal. The whole demon society knows, that I'm one of a kind – unique. Maybe I got involved more than is wise, but I'm a big number now. I like Rome and in making my permanent home here I made sure this is MY city.

The whole celebrity thing is limited to this very special circle, so I doubt that I attract much attention from humans or fellow Immortals. At the same time it's almost impossible for someone to kill me without giving our secret away to a large community. Not to mention that I have many people who want to stay on my good side, so they would immediately inform me if some bimbo with a big sword walks around my city looking for trouble.

 

I really think that I'm not living more dangerously than you do, old man, but I'm definitely having more fun along the way.”

 

Methos, still overwhelmed by the mass of information and also a bit intoxicated by the amount of red wine he had drunk, was ready to go more easy on his former student.

 

“Well, I won't argue that last bit,” he admitted. “One could definitely get used to this kind of luxury.”

 

* * *

 

Methos was so tempted by the allure of luxury that he decided to stay for a while; none of the servants learned anything about him but that he was a studious scholar and their master enjoyed the intellectual stimulus.

 

Claudio was a gracious host seeing to his old teacher’s every need, including the other’s obsessive need to keep his secrets, so when they sparred and trained together for old time’s sake he made more than sure that none would be able to see or hear what they were up to in the gardens.

 

But Claudio had his own life and obsessions too and he didn’t put them on hold even for his most honoured guest.

 

So ‘Luigi’ wasn’t all that surprised when he found himself left to his own devices for an evening or two while Claudio entertained guests of a completely different variety.

 

Sitting alone in the gardens in the middle of a warm summer’s night, Methos was startled by a female voice.

 

“You think about travelling on.”

 

He looked up to see a young woman of  considerable grace and some comeliness. Her face was too long, her teeth too prominent to fit the current beauty standards, but her pale skin was absolutely flawless. Yet something about her sent a shiver down Methos’ spine.

 

Never someone to let his most innermost thoughts show - especially to strangers - he smiled a noncommittal smile and bowed to her as was the custom.

 

“I wish a good evening to you, Milady.”

 

The sound of her laughter rang like a clear bell through the gardens.

 

“You are funny - not like dear Claudio, but funny.” She began a weird little dance made up entirely by herself with steps so unrefined that it should have been scandalous, her feet he now noticed bare on the grass. 

 

Another thing he noticed was the subtle smell of blood surrounding her.

 

Methos tensed even more than he had when she first startled him, and his fingers went closer to the stiletto he had always hidden upon him - even in the friendly gardens of his host.

 

He had no idea how she did it, but she suddenly held both his wrists in an iron grip. He hadn’t even seen her moving.

 

She looked into his eyes studying him intently and he knew that at that moment she could see all his secrets.

 

She started giggling like a schoolgirl.

 

“No - I was wrong. You are more fun than Claudio, much more. He doesn’t even know - not really, does he? He is deafened and blinded by your smiles and his pleasures. Pretty, pretty Death. I’m your disciple and your whore - I could never hurt one such as yourself.”

 

Her kiss was passionate and violent and he knew with terrified certainty that a few millennia earlier he would have very much enjoyed it.

 

* * *

 

When he came to his senses in the morning, still drowsy from the blood loss, Methos decided it was time for him to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doge = ruler of a city state (historically Rome didn't have one unlike Venice for example)
> 
>  
> 
> And the fandom in question is of course...
> 
> Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Methos met Drusilla


	3. Chapter 3

Living on the British Isles at the beginning of the second millennium was mostly boring. Methos had made it a point of pride not to get too used to certain circumstances. While he preferred warmer climates as a rule he also knew that the regions around what once had been known as Mesopotamia and Babylon still were the hunting grounds of some of his more ruthless compatriots.

 

And when dealing with mortals it was noteworthy that the Saxons didn’t regularly behead people as a means to discourage crimes.

 

So while the weather might not be to his liking, Methos found that the life in a remote abbey wasn’t all that bad. He couldn’t imagine making a permanent life out of it but a lifetime now and then wasn’t too bad - especially when abbeys and cloisters were about the only places of learning left in this part of the world.

 

And despite the common perception the lives of monks weren’t all joyless, especially not under Abbot Thelonius.

 

Methos - or Brother Gregory - fulfilled his duties within the abbey but none as enthusiastically as the brewing. And he was good at it.

 

His brew was the first thing that brought him unto his abbot’s radar when the man arrived shortly after the death of the last abbot - sent by the order’s head to replace him. But soon they discovered more common interest - the abbot being a man learned far beyond that which was common even with this order.

 

The man knew things Methos had thought were forgotten by anyone but himself in this part of the world and was able to read even the most obscure languages he came up with to test the man. This meant of course that he would have to be extremely careful so the man wouldn’t guess his true nature.

 

But talking, speculating, playing a game of go, drinking a freshly finished brew - all those were far too much fun to skip just because of an over-eager sense of paranoia.

 

“You know, Gregory, I think this country has great potential. If we can just protect it from violent invaders and catastrophes for a while, we might reach a new era of enlightenment that will dwarf even the ancient Greeks.”

 

Methos chuckled, having his very own ideas about the ancient Greeks. “But dear Thelonius, how will you protect this country from the world? Knowledge alone is a poor shield against swords.”

 

“Oh ye of little faith - what if not knowledge will be able to protect us from the barbarians?”

 

“Why the Lord our Father, Thelonius, that much is obvious.”

 

With a twinkle of the eye the abbot replied. “No doubt that he could - anything else would be heresy. But I found over the course of my not inconsiderable years that god seems to favour the bold and industrious.”

 

Methos knew that if some of his fellow monks would hear them talk like this they might be tried for heresy and wisely chose to take a good mouthful of his newest masterpiece.

 

“Knowledge is our foremost weapon against barbarism. If you know an attack is coming, for example, you can prepare for it.”

 

Suddenly some of the things the abbot had ordered the monks and the peasants around here appeared in a new light. He swallowed. “But how would one know when to expect an attack? There are signs that an astute student of history might interpret but to actually know, for certain - that has to be impossible.”

 

“Nothing is impossible, dear Gregory, not even people coming back from the dead.” He took a long pointed look at his friend before continuing seemingly harmless. “As the bible surely teaches us.”

 

Methos soon found an excuse to flee the abbot’s study.

 

From then on he avoided the abbot’s company, at least when it came to them being alone. He carefully prepared to leave the abbey in the near future but he wanted to avoid a hasty flight if it was at all possible. If the abbot just had a suspicion, it wouldn’t do to encourage him. He wondered why the man didn’t bear the Watcher’s sign on his person and decided it was probable he really was only guessing instead of knowing. So the risk of a headless flight still were greater than the risk of discovery.

 

Besides the abbot had never been a fanatic, so the chances of him doing something to harm Methos were rather slim.

 

So when a couple of weeks later the abbot left, Methos couldn’t help that he felt relief.

 

* * *

 

About twenty years later, Methos had changed his name and occupation and travelled the country. Like the abbot often said there were signs a learned man could read and although he couldn’t be sure when the attack would happen, he was reasonably sure it would be soon.

 

So Methos was now travelling along the coast to find a port and subsequently a ship to help him leave this island. It had been a while since he visited the Mediterranean so maybe it was a good time to do so again.

 

As the evening approached, he spotted an abbey close by and decided to ask for shelter for the night.

 

Later he was never sure what he witnessed that night.

 

Despite the chants and hymns from many voices, he found the abbey all but abandoned but for one man - his old abbot not a day aged in those two decades.

 

This was impossible he knew. If the abbot were Immortal, he would have known.

 

Yet here he was with contraptions and playthings that enabled him to mimic an abbey’s worth of monks. Methos was far too old and cynical to believe in witchcraft, but some of the things he saw very nearly shook that conviction.

 

He didn’t stay long but he witnessed the abbot talk to another seemingly old man in the strangest garments who insisted on calling Thelonius ‘Monk’ and was called ‘Doctor’ in return. The two of them obviously disagreed about the course of action but the most important thing was that both of them somehow  _ knew  _ that England would soon be conquered by the Normans.

 

Whether it was right or wrong to stop this, it became apparently clear that the Doctor wouldn’t let Thelonius meddle with what he called ‘the integrity of the timelines’. Something about the old man’s face and mannerism stirred some old and long forgotten memory. The face was strangely familiar and brought the subconscious conviction that bad things were afoot.

 

Methos took this as his cue to leave and hasten his departure towards the Mediterranean even more.

 

During his flight he spotted a young man and woman both dressed even more strangely than the Doctor and caught a glimpse of a bright blue shed.

  
  


_ “Wait, wait… wasn’t blue very hard to get and expensive?” _

 

_ Methos nodded. “Yes, very good, Joseph. Blue was the colour of kings for a reason and no one - NO ONE would spend the time and money to dye a wooden shed in such a hue. Which is why of all the things I saw that night the blue shed is the one which makes me most inclined to believe it was all but a bad fever dream. Only I later learned I barely escaped the Battle of Hastings, so there’s that.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the fandom in question is...
> 
> Doctor Who (seriously check out "The Meddling Monk" it's a great first Doctor story) and Methos met the Meddling Monk a rogue Timelord


	4. Chapter 4

After a short and uncomfortable night, Methos packed his sleeping roll and possessions onto his mule and started the day’s journey. He had been on the road for six days now in this god-forsaken mountains and he couldn’t wait to finally reach the next settlement where there would be food, beer, and maybe some willing wenches.

 

He hated travelling in this weather but sometimes the circumstances left him no choice.

 

Close to midday he started seeing goats wandering around without their shepherd. The animals were clearly tame and didn’t mind him stealing some of their milk for his own pleasure but there was no human to be seen. Methos had to confess he was curious what had happened to the person watching over the animals but not overly so. He was a stranger travelling through and if something had happened to a local it was likely that he would get blamed.

 

Nevertheless the sun was high and he had wandered for a good while so he was considering taking a break to give himself and his mule some rest. Which is when he spotted the man sitting on a stone naked.

 

“Greetings, stranger.”

 

The man looked up startled. Obviously he hadn’t seen Methos approach. His hair was brown and his skin light like Methos’ own. Nothing unseen in the jewish sects living around these parts.

 

“Greetings, traveller.”

 

Methos spotted the man’s clothes lying close by and the man by all means should shiver even in the midday sun. Yet he seemed little concerned with the temperature.

 

As if remembering something long forgotten, the naked man smiled at him. “Please sit down with me, traveller.”

 

Hospitality was considered most sacrosanct in the area, so the invitation was proper and expected. Declining might be considered an insult even. Methos bowed his head in acceptance, acting as if he met naked shepherds on the road every other day.

 

“I humbly accept your invitation. Please let us share bread and salt.”

 

The man just stared at him for a moment. “Is that customary?”

 

That question sent all kinds of alarms ringing in Methos mind. Yet he decided to continue on his chosen path for the moment. If the man had some ailment of the mind he was most probably harmless and needed but gentle guidance. If the condition was temporary his family would be even grateful for the kindness of a stranger.

 

“It is among my people, honoured stranger. As is the exchange of names. I am called Methos.”

 

The naked man nodded. “I am called gavri’EL in the honour of my father,” he declared formally.

 

“Is your father close by?”

 

Suddenly the man’s whole expression changed. He was startled by the question and after thinking about it openly distraught. “I… do not know. Once he was there, watching, all the time. Now, he hasn’t spoken to me in so long that I can’t know anymore.”

 

The man seemed a bit simple so Methos guessed his father was most probably dead. He took out his provisions and divided them equally. It wouldn’t do to leave the manchild on his own without at least trying to help him. He offered the food to gavri’EL who took it and then studied it intendly. Only when he saw Methos eat, he copied the motion.

 

The man was so hapless that the Immortal doubted he was fearing poisoning, it was more likely that he followed the customs of his tribe.

 

“Do you have other family close by?”

 

“No! They argue and argue and I left and I won’t return!”

 

Taken aback by the rather intense reaction, Methos did his best to distract gavri’EL.

 

“Alright. Why did you take off your clothes?”

 

Gone was the intensity. “They chafed.” The shepherd stated with great dignity.

 

Methos couldn’t help but laugh heartily.

 

It took him some time to explain to gavri’EL why it was a good idea to put on his clothes again and to gather the goats but in the end the man trusted him. After a good two hours gathering the goats they sat down together for a quick respite and Methos offered the other man a honeycomb to suck on.

 

The unadulterated joy showing on gavri’EL’s face was enough to convince Methos that he’d done the right thing even if it meant tonight would be spent in a stable rather than a proper bed.

 

“This is GOOD. I can’t believe I never tried it.” For a moment his eyes went out of focus. ”Father kept so much from us it seems.” He turned to Methos his eyes intense in a way Methos hadn’t seen in anyone since he left Kronos. “I think it was good that I waited to judge you.”

 

“Judge me?”

 

“That used to be my task before our father left, to deal out judgements and punishments among the sinners and unbelievers. And you are both. If we had met a few centuries back, I would have smitten you without a second thought. Flaming swords are good for that. Don’t look like that I left that behind when I left - I’m here to learn.”

 

Methos swallowed. ”Learn what?”

 

A smile played on gavri’EL’s lips - it looked as if it was the very first time he tried one. “Everything - free will, honey, whatever comes next. You for example already showed me something none of my brothers believes - people can change. Yes, Methos I can see your past, I see who you once were. I also see who you are now. Given enough time, maybe even I can change…” His eyes wandered toward the horizon. “This vessel’s home is behind those hills. His name was Joshua. His family will have use for the goats still. Tell them their son went to serve a herald of the one true god - it might lessen their pain.”

 

From one moment to the next gavri’EL was gone, leaving behind a very frightened Immortal and some confused goats.

 

_ “Now I KNOW you’re pulling my leg, old man.” _

 

_ “I met him a couple of times again all over the world, he always claimed different names - like Loki among others - whatever his game was, he managed to convince those around him that he had some kind of power. I don’t claim he actually has them - just that I never managed to see through whatever he pulled off. He was fun company most of the times and a terrible sweet tooth.” _

 

_ “So another Immortal with powers like Cassandra?” _

 

_ Methos shrugged. “If so he can use them to mask his aura as well.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fandom in question is...
> 
> Supernatural and Methos met Gabriel


	5. Chapter 5

_ “Now what next -  you’re telling me you met you met Moses in Egypt?” _

 

_ “Actually his brother was the interesting one - Aaron was a scholar after all.” _

 

_ “What?!” _

 

_ Methos laughed. “NOW I’m pulling your leg. No the next story takes place just a few years back, actually…” _

 

Sometimes Methos needed a break from Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. The man was such a damn boy scout. He really, really tried to teach the kid some valuable lessons so he might actually survive his first millennium. But despite his superb swordsman skill, the stubborn, Scottish honour code made that outcome highly unlikely.

 

So instead of hanging out in Seacouver, Methos was spending a few weeks driving through the country - a genuine all-American road trip. Getting a new feel for the country and the people. Something he liked to do every few decades even if he generally stayed up to date with the current world.

 

Currently he was hitting a small roadside diner and bar in Nevada. There was some military base close by that provided for most of the customers it seemed but no one looked at him twice really. They were used to travellers dropping in obviously.

 

The food was good and the beer excellent and the AC was working fine - unlike the one in his rental. So Methos decides to take another beer or three before travelling on once the worst heat would be over.

 

The first thing to really catch his attention was the middle aged man that entered at the later end of lunch rush. His clothes were… original. Methos blinked when he saw an actual light-up tie outwards of a comic convention. The man had impressive eyebrows, a friendly face, and obviously no shits to give. Not only was he wearing clothes that would make a costume designer from an 80’s children’s show jealous, he was also smoking an enormous cigar inside in complete ignorance of the ‘no smoking’ signs placed in clear view.

 

Nevertheless the man was greeted in a friendly manner by the bartender - obviously he was a regular. What really threw Methos off though was the fact that the guys in uniform straightened when they saw him and saluted the man they called ‘Admiral’.

 

The man just grinned. “I’m out of uniform guys, relax.” He turned to the bartender and ordered a round for the whole bar - a fact which immediately endeared him to Methos.

 

The female bartender smiled as he started flirting with her. She didn’t seem to mind that he was about twice her age at all.

 

“Good day at work, Admiral?”

 

“Things looked tense for a while but now everything is well and if I tell you more some of the boys have to shoot you.” He winked. “But yeah I’m in a mood to celebrate a bit. So when do you get off, Susan?”

 

“Oh no - Admiral - I won’t get on Tina’s bad side, she’s far too lovely a lady.”

 

“She is.” He agreed amicably. He took a sip of his whiskey when his eyes fell on Methos and widened in surprised recognition.

 

Methos had no idea where he might have seen that walking eccentricity before but it was clear that the admiral knew him from somewhere. Sitting in a  bar at least half full with army personnel ready to jump at the man’s word, the Immortal saw no choice but to bluff his way out of here.

 

“May I sit down?”

 

“Sure. I could hardly deny the man paying for my beer.”

 

“I have to say I’m surprised to see you here, Mr. Corrin.”

 

“I’m sorry but you seem to take me for someone else. My name is Pierson.” Methos’ mind was racing - he had used Corrin in the sixties as a lawyer in California. The man was old enough to remember that but with so many decades there was no way he could be sure.

 

“Oh, I don’t think so. There was something fishy about you back then and the research almost blew Siggy’s main processor. We couldn’t find out your real name but you are clearly not named Corrin, or Pierson, or Adams or whatever else you claimed to be named over the last couple of centuries.”

 

Methos’ hand slowly wandered towards his concealed pistol.

 

“Relax - I just want to talk. If you do something stupid though, there are more than enough soldiers in this joint to give you some real trouble. And since about everyone else here is a scientist except for the bartender I’m sure they would find your coming back from being shot very interesting,”

 

Methos’ eyes went toward the admiral’s wrist but there was no Watcher tattoo.

 

“I really don’t mean you any harm, Mr. ‘Pierson’. The last time I saw you, you took a bullet and saved my best friend’s life. We didn’t trust you with all those false papers attached to your name and when we found out that you were at least three hundred years old but when you made that decision… I know a good man when I see one. Even if it might take some time.”

 

“And when has all this happened according to you?”

 

“March fifth, 1963.”

 

“Don’t you think after over three decades you might be mistaken?”

 

“Oh with three decades that might be the case but last week - hardly.”

 

_ “Did you save someone on that date?” _

 

_ “Melina Chao - a nurse and a friend. She had gone through so much already and she was a mother. I was about to give up Corrin anyway, so it didn’t cost me much.” _

 

_ “So he witnessed what happened but wasn’t recruited by the Watchers. Since you didn’t have one at that point it’s not that surprising.” _

 

_ “There’s only one problem. Melina and I were alone that night - except for the shooter.” _

 

“Look I know this looks frightening from your standpoint and I can’t tell you too much. But with your lifetime… we could do a lot of good simply because you were born so long ago. I won’t force you though.”

 

“Force me to do what?”

 

“I can’t explain - not before you made a decision and agreed to keep it secret. Passing the security tests would be hell probably but I’m sure I could pull some strings under the circumstances. All I can say is that I can offer you the opportunity to be part of something bigger than yourself, a scientific miracle. And you would be able to save countless lives, make the world a better place.”

 

The admiral seemed to be genuine. Methos smiled. 

 

“I’ll pass. Thanks for the beer though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the fandom is...
> 
> Quantum Leap and Methos met Admiral Al Calavicci.
> 
> For those not in the know QL was about a version of time travel where the Leaper could jump through time limited by their personal lifespan (aka. jump through a few decades but no further than some point in their mother's pregnancy). Al doesn't quite know HOW huge of a bargain that would be with Methos...


	6. Chapter 6

_“After Corrin’s death I went to Europe for a while. The late 70s found me once again in England - even if it was just for a semester abroad. My identity at that point was an Italian student of law. But damn was the summer of ‘78 fun. I don’t think I’ve ever drunk as much alcohol in such a short period of time - or tried out that many other drugs.”_

 

_“I didn’t know you were into anything but beer.”_

 

_“Pierson isn’t, Andrea Giamatti on the other hand was. The beauty of being an Immortal is you never have to worry about physical addiction or destroying your health that way.” Methos’ grin was replaced by something more sober. “I usually try to not get too used to it as psychological addiction IS a very real thing among my kind - as you will remember from Byron - but from time to time an identity demands to go with the current subculture.”_

 

_“And ‘78 in England…”_

 

_“Punk was glorious.”_

 

“God, this band is shite!” His flatmate shouted to make himself being understood over the infernal noise.

 

Andrea Giamatti smiled widely and nodded. He shared Tariq’s assessment completely - but he wasn’t here for the music. And to be completely honest ‘The Mucous Membrane’ weren’t that much worse than any other punk bands he’d seen, some of the texts even had something akin to meaning - if you were able to make them out in the screaming that currently counted as singing. Not that Andrea would be able to tell. Methos appreciated it nonetheless.

 

He downed his beer watching Tariq jump into the fray to ‘dance’.

 

Despite Andrea’s willingness and curiosity regarding the British youth culture, Methos refrained from doing so. There were limits to his willingness to adapt.

 

Instead of joining the masses in their copulation-fight-dance, he watched, watched all that energy, all that anger on display on those radiant young bodies.

 

His clothes tattered and his hair styled with the help of beer he was camouflaged enough that people didn’t want to mess with him on principle. And when some guys decided to provoke him anyway, he shouted back at them, ready to punch them in the nose if necessary but never letting them see how dangerous he really was. All that posturing was part of the culture as well after all.

 

The gig didn’t take all that long - the band’s repertoire was limited and for that Methos was grateful. While he enjoyed the energy and couldn’t deny the lead singer’s charisma, he was developing a headache that had nothing to do with the presence of other Immortals or the overindulgence of drugs but simply with the noise level.

 

Noticing that Tariq had disappeared, Andrea Giamatti wasn’t overly worried, not with two pretty and very willing young ladies obviously intent on taking care of the cute ‘exotic’. Eventually he would make his way back to the shared flat but not necessarily tonight. One of his beauties managed to talk up the band’s guitarist when he came to the bar for some beer. Apparently the two girls were some kind of groupies and didn’t ask too much of a guy if he was a member of a band. A fact that was a bit of a blow for Methos’ ego even if it amused him.

 

“Gaz - give us a bottle.” The blonde lead singer joined them with a shit-eating grin putting himself between Gaz and the girls. “Now what kind of mate would hide here so he doesn’t have to share?”

 

It was very obvious that both girls had all but forgotten the guitarist and judging by Gaz’ reaction this wasn’t a first. The man slunk quietly away, a bottle in hand in search for some other potential bedmates.

 

“Me name’s John, ladies, and I’m lonely.”

 

God the boy was an ass, but Methos couldn’t deny that he had a charm that was hard to resist.

 

And apparently among John Constantine’s many faults, small-minded bigotry wasn’t one of them.

 

_“OK old man, what is so strange about a threesome involving the singer of a Punk band?”_

 

_“Fivesome technically. And the strange thing happened about twenty years later.”_

 

Adam Pierson wanted nothing more than to have a quiet beer. He still didn’t buy the whole ‘Ahriman’ thing. He had seen greater minds than Duncan’s succumb to madness - temporary and otherwise and if the man needed such a bedtime story to live with the fact that he’d killed his foster son then so be it. Still he could only take so much drama and one or two months retreat to England away from the Highlander and Dawson and everything was just what he needed. So it was just his luck that on his way home from the pub he had to have a run-in with some wanna-be big bad Immortal.

 

He had tried to discourage the kid. He really had. The child couldn’t have been more than two decades from his first death more likely less than one. But when he insisted Methos took care of the problem permanently.

 

As far as Quickenings went it was a rather light one. It hardly blew out more than the back alley’s lights and Methos came to his senses rather quickly.

 

Only to find himself staring up to a mortal guy in a trenchcoat who must have followed him from the pub.

 

“Andrea ?”

 

For a tiny moment Methos’ mind went blank when he made the association. Without safety pins and the hair spiked up, the man looked far too civil to match his memory. And surprisingly young for a man who had to be in his mid forties.

 

Only he didn’t get any immortal vibes from him. Nor had he back in the seventies.

 

“John?”

 

“Move slowly, so I can see your hands and don’t try any bullshit.”

 

“This is not what it looks like.”

 

“To me it looks like you just beheaded a bloke. Given the fact that he had a sword too and I can’t see any runes or opening portals I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt for now, mate. I can be sentimental like that.”

 

Methos very slowly rose with the distinct feeling that a wrong move might prove to be a very costly mistake.

 

“Portals?”

 

“Ah you know - contacting the dead, summoning demons, taking a glimpse into hell - the usual.”

 

“Your and my idea of ‘the usual’ are quite different.”

 

John lit himself a cigarette and shrugged. “Saw you in the pub earlier, something seemed familiar. But your age threw me off. You haven’t aged a day.”

 

Methos carefully cleaned his sword and put it away. “You look good for a forty-odd bloke as well.”

 

“Demonblood did the trick. Not all unintended consequences come back to bite you in the arse - fag?” He offered the package to Methos.

 

“No thanks. Haven’t smoked this decade yet and I don’t want to start.” He really, really, really didn’t want to get involved with another delusional madperson.

 

“So care to tell me what this was about?”

 

“Selfdefense.”

 

“Well then we better get lost before the coppers get here, mate. It will be a bit hard to convince them.”

 

Maybe madpeople had some advantages - no sane man would have shrugged this off so nonchalantly.

 

“My place is just a couple of minutes of a walk away. You can clean up there, we share a drink, stories and maybe a bit more, what do you say mate?”

 

_“You went with him?”_

 

_“My curiosity was peaked - also John was anything if not a good romp between the sheets, even if he was mad. And I’m not so sure about that anymore.”_

 

 _“After everything with Ahriman how did_ **_he_ ** _manage to convince you?”_

 

_“Loads of small things. He knew about Ahriman, had even met Cassandra although he didn’t know about Immortals in general. He did some small magics - nothing that couldn’t have as easily been sleight out of hand tricks. It was mostly the attitude I think. He wasn’t a bona fide hero type with a saviour complex. He was a down and dirty bloke with an asshole attitude that seemed more pissed about the fact that demons exist than frightened. Maybe less arrogant than his twenty-something self but I wouldn’t bet on it. Also he mostly used his great gift to finance his life by cheating on the races. All the bookies in the area knew not to take any bets from him.”_

 

_“That’s what convinced you he was genuine?”_

 

_“It’s exactly what I would do if had some kind of precognition, Joseph.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fandom in question is...
> 
> Hellblazer (Vertigo comics) and Methos met John Constantine.
> 
> Now which of the 5 encounters was true and which was just the old man spinning a yarn?


End file.
